The best reading plan is the one that does not exist

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Miguel Ángel Tirado

In recent years, the sense that students are struggling more and more to understand what they read has been borne out by international assessment reports such as PIRLS and PISA. Similar concerns are often raised about writing, although we lack sufficiently reliable data to confirm—or disprove—the widespread impression that written expression is also in decline. In response, many education authorities have promoted—and mandated—the introduction of reading plans, in the hope of reversing this trend, thereby adding yet another administrative demand to the daily life of schools.

As a consequence, schools are now expected to organise activities, themed weeks, shared reading sessions, periods of free reading and a variety of creative initiatives designed to “encourage reading”. This proliferation of initiatives (all well intentioned, and many of them valuable) should nevertheless prompt a more fundamental question: are we mistaking the symptom for the cause? Poor reading comprehension is the most visible sign of the problem, but have we really taken the time to examine what lies behind it? Or are our efforts being directed at the wrong thing altogether?

Reading—like writing—should not be treated as a stand-alone programme, but as an integral part of everyday learning. Reading is not an end in itself; it is an intellectual tool for understanding the world. Its value lies in reading in order to learn. Official guidance on reading promotion readily acknowledges that reading ought to permeate all subjects and areas of the curriculum. Yet, paradoxically, it often proposes a parallel structure of special activities, meetings and additional planning. In other words, reading is recognised as foundational, but handled as an extra. What should be woven into the fabric of academic life is instead packaged as a separate project, as though reading needed special measures to justify its presence.

A clarification is needed here. Many of the activities commonly associated with reading plans—reading clubs, recitals, dramatizations, podcasts, literary games, author visits and the like—have clear and undeniable merits. When thoughtfully designed, they help to build a shared reading culture, spark curiosity and foster emotional connections with books. They create spaces in which reading is lived, shared and enjoyed, and they can offer an excellent entry point into the pleasure of reading. The point is not to dismiss them. The problem arises when these activities, whose primary aim is to encourage engagement, are presented as a solution to the problem of deep comprehension.

Understanding depends on knowledge. We understand best what we already know well. Without a sufficiently rich vocabulary, without cultural reference points, and without scientific or historical knowledge, even the most imaginative initiatives will struggle to compensate for what is missing. For this reason, while such activities can be effective in generating interest, they cannot replace the school’s core responsibility: to provide students with the knowledge that enables them to make sense of what they read and, more broadly, of the world around them.

Debates about weak reading comprehension frequently focus on generic strategies: identifying main ideas, predicting, inferring, evaluating, reflecting, summarising. All of these have their place, but they are secondary. They do not operate in isolation and therefore account for only a limited part of comprehension. What matters most is what the reader knows about the topic. A student with a strong background in motorcycling will not only grasp the main points of a text on motorcycle maintenance, but will also infer what is left implicit and evaluate its approach critically. But will those same skills transfer seamlessly to a text on interior design if the student has no familiarity with terms such as lacquered, patina or moulding? Probably not. Comprehension is not a generic skill that can be applied uniformly to any text; it is, to a significant extent, contingent on prior knowledge.

This is why the central question is not simply “how do we get students to read more?”—important though that may be—but rather “how do we ensure that they learn more, and learn more effectively, through reading?”. When the curriculum is structured around substantive knowledge, reading and writing naturally function as vehicles for that knowledge, and comprehension improves as a result. Attempting to address poor comprehension through reading plans is akin to a restaurant that responds to complaints about its food by launching a programme of tastings: carefully curated samples, attractive presentation, special events—everything except improving the quality of the ingredients and the way they are cooked. Tastings may be enjoyable and even draw in customers, but they do nothing to address the underlying problem. Much the same can be said of many reading plans: they focus on the tasting experience, while neglecting what truly matters—the ingredients, namely the vocabulary and knowledge that make understanding possible.

Students read with greater understanding when they possess a solid base of prior knowledge, both general and subject-specific. Vocabulary, cultural references and disciplinary concepts cannot be conjured up on demand; they are built slowly and cumulatively through sustained engagement with meaningful content. Without this foundation, no “reading plan” can make up the difference. Improving reading comprehension therefore requires strengthening the curriculum in the broadest sense: teaching science, history, art, music and literature with depth and coherence; working with demanding texts in every subject; and allowing sufficient time for reading that leads to understanding, as well as for writing that helps students think through what they have learned. Reading promotion activities can complement and enrich this work, but they cannot replace it. Of course, for any of this to be possible, decoding—which is a skill—must be secure: fluent reading is a necessary, though not sufficient, condition for comprehension. But that is a separate issue.

For all these reasons, the best reading plan is the one that becomes indistinguishable from teaching itself. It is the plan in which every subject offers opportunities to read, understand, discuss and write. A plan that is not really a plan at all—one that recognises that reading is not fostered through enthusiasm alone, but through knowledge; that it is not bolted on, but embedded in the intellectual life of the school. Reading—like writing—should not be a parallel or supplementary activity, but the backbone of meaningful learning. To speak of “promoting reading” as something separate is to assume, implausibly, that deep learning could occur without sustained engagement with texts that demand thought, convey content and require intellectual effort.

Ultimately, reading comprehension will improve when we stop treating reading as an abstract, self-contained competence; when we stop approaching it as an isolated problem to be addressed through a set of remedial activities. It will improve when we recognise knowledge as the true engine of learning. At that point, reading and writing will once again become—as they always should have been—the most powerful means of learning and the most effective way of ensuring equal educational opportunities. Culture, understood as shared knowledge, is what ultimately levels the playing field.

That is why a good reading plan is one that disappears because it is no longer needed: one that is fully integrated into a school where learning necessarily involves reading and writing, thinking and articulating ideas, making connections and achieving understanding.

Put simply: the best reading plan is the one that exists precisely by not existing.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons